The Blue-Haired Tyrant: A Slime's Perspective
by Howling Din
Summary: Russel the Slime had always led a peaceful existence: Eating everything that fit in his mouth, contributing to unseemly Tarr outbreaks, and otherwise hopping carefree through life. All of this changed when he was captured by Beatrix LeBeau and imprisoned in her corral. Time marches on at the Ranch as this spirited slime and his friends plot to undermine their alien captor.


Russel got to catch the morning sun rising as he slipped into consciousness, waking from his sleep inside the dirt-floor square pen formed by flat energy barriers, which emitted from four corner pylons. The light poured freely through, and he felt his fellow slimes nudge into him as they began to wake as well.

It promised to be a beautiful day, as hot and dry as ever, and as Russel rustled himself gently out of the pit of sand formed by his own weight as he slept, he made himself ready to make a boundless hop in the air; a hop of excitement. Perhaps it'd somehow be high enough to scale the harmless but impenetrable barrier which imprisoned him.

This was immediately shot to heck as he was slammed in the face by a high-velocity object and sent flying, along with the high-velocity object, which turned out to be a Pogofruit—just what he was in the mood to eat, but the impact still sent him flying accompanied by the sound a loud mechanical discharge, and as he flipped once backward, his face panned to see the source of the projectile fruit; he saw… her.

Her brown face seemed insufferably calm; almost bored, like this was a routine to her. That pale blue pile of hair with an equally piled ponytail. And that gun… that gun inside which he'd been involuntarily inhaled, the gun she used to kidnap him and his friends, the gun which she also, as if to add insult to injury, used to shoot their food rations at them. It could hardly be described as a gun; more of a tool; a tool of the devil.

As he glimpsed the blue-haired alien, Russel shot her a look of defiance, but he was still spinning in the air, and his face was not clearly visible as more discharges could be heard and more pogofruit were fired into the pen at high velocity. He could hear his fellow slimes already chomping down on the food.

The Blue-haired Alien had already moved on by the time Russel hit the ground. Another Pink Slime, whom Russel knew, hopped next to Russel with the leafy top of a pogofruit hanging out of his mouth as he chewed. "You get a food this time, Russel?" A large portion pink slimes spoke to other slimes with a fractured syntax.

Russel spoke normally. "No Frank, I didn't."

"Mm, too bad for you." Frank said in a plain, unassuming tone as he swallowed his pogofruit.

Russel twitched. "And we don't have to look so eager whenever she deigns to feed us."

"Food's food, Russel." Frank looked at him with a beady-eyed simplicity. "It's there and you eat it. Feels good. Good living." Frank's pliable form inflated slightly, naturally as part of his digestive process.

"You're absolutely correct, Frank." Russel gave him a friendly, knowing gaze. "They always comfort me, you know. Your little nuggets of wisdom."

Frank turned away obliviously. "I'm just ordinary person. Getting 'long in the world." He hopped away.

After Frank headed for another area of the crowded pen, a different pink slime hopped up to Russel. "Let me guess: plotting high treason again? Russel the rebel, is what they should call you."

Russel knew this slime as well, and didn't like him. "Don't call it treason, Derek."

Derek inflated his pink volume in a challenging pose. "Three days ago this dawn, you harmed the Great Provider—"

"With what?" Russel chuckled. "My wobbly pink mass? Give me a break."

"I won't let you pull another stunt like that."

"Well, I, never." Russel feigned shock at what he'd heard. "You know as well as I, it was one of the Rockers in the pen next to us who perpetrated that little spat." Then his facial expression suddenly flattened, sobering. "Now get lost."

"Why would I want to get lost?" Derek adopted a smug expression. "Unlike you, I'm quite happy where we are."

"I'm sorry you feel that way."

"We're all safe at this place, and our needs are seen to." Derek pivoted himself left and right in an act of shaking his head. "Being taken in by the Great Provider was salvation."

"It's degrading." Russel nodded upward. "I preferred racing and wrestling for food; being able to roam as I please. Where's the mystery in this place? At what point do my decisions and my efforts effect the course of my life here?"

"Spare me your self-pity. I just want to be certain another stray pink plort isn't going to catapult its way into the rock slimes' pen."

"Hey, I want to be certain of that too." Russel had an intent look. "A Rocker eating one of our plorts and going largo is not condusive to the current…" His eyes aimed upward, searching for the word. "Ranch-onomic paradigm, am I right?"

"I know you had something to do with that, Russel…" Derek twitched. "And don't use words that are out of your league."

Three more slimes came up to Russel. "Hey, Russ. We're all full now, ready to start the meeting."

"Great." Russel nodded at them, and turned to Derek. "The RA is in session, Derek. Is there a concern you want to bring to our attention?"

Derek was even more visibly annoyed. "You people are rebels, and you're operating out in the open."

Russel tsked, shaking his head by pivoting. "Yet another allegation that the Ranch Association is a rebel cell." He turned to one of the three slimes. "Reema, lay the pitch on this concerned citizen."

Reema's face had a bright smile that faced up eagerly. This slime had an extremely effeminate voice tone. "The Ranch Association is an open forum in which resident slimes may voice their concerns and interests, and have them addressed. All under the pretense that they will never be punished for their views."

"Very good." Russel nodded. "All in favor reopening the… very much closed." He shot a look at Derek "Case of Derek's accusation of our conspiracy to commit treason?"

"Aye!" Derek shouted.

"Derek's guest vote counts as one for yea. All against?"

"Nay." The three slimes said simultaneously.

"That's three for 'nay', and my vote makes four. Sorry Derek." Russel gave him a look of sympathy. "We're going to move on to the next item now."

"I hate you people." Derek's tone had an outbreak of emotion. "You're a maniac, Russel." He turned around and readied to hop away. "The Great Provider has bigger concerns than this, better things to do. I'll protect her from you, I swear it." He hopped.

"Good luck with that, buddy." Russel said after, unbothered.

"I feel bad for him." Reema said after Derek went to another area of the pen.

"Eh," Russel fluctuated in an equivalent of shrugging. "We'll share some of our dirt paste with him later, he'll be fine."

"Are we making more dirt paste today?" Another of the three slimes said, this one with an extremely bass-lined voice that swung to the other extreme from Reema's.

"No." Russel shook his head. "Our hideout is big enough, now all we need is a way through the underground mesh. The Aliens' metal is some tough stuff, but we'll find something soon I'm sure.

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 **This chapter is a one-shot, a premise, and the shortest thing I've ever posted. I have a whole expansive epic story in my head to follow this, consider this chapter a pilot for it.**

 **Slime Rancher resonated with me and a story idea inevitably popped into my head. The other Ranchers in the Far, Far Range have little presence and they could be characterized further in a fic, and a story from a Slime's perspective is a must no matter the form.**

 **But first I'll lay down the premise, and see how it's received. Perspectives from other people are a big deal to me and hearing them aloud is a treasure.**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **To be continued... maybe~**


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